


Little Pink Houses

by Persephoneshadow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Activist Castiel (Supernatural), Anal Sex, Bottom Castiel, Dom/sub Undertones, Flexible Castiel, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Law Enforcement, M/M, Naked Castiel, Oral Sex, Police Officer Dean, Recreational Drug Use, Sexting, Snarky Castiel, Snowballing, Top Dean, Uniform Kink, tiny house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 13:58:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10595433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persephoneshadow/pseuds/Persephoneshadow
Summary: Deputy Dean Winchester has seen some interesting things in his time, but dealing with a tiny house on Fergus Crowley's property might just be the strangest, especially when the snarky, kinda gorgeous protester who owns the thing answers the door buck ass naked. Dean's life might never be the same.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [horrorfemme](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=horrorfemme).



> I'm so happy to share this fic, which was written for the winner of my auction for Fandom Trumps Hate, the amazing [Christy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/NowMakeThemKiss/pseuds/NowMakeThemKiss). I so enjoyed brainstorming this story with her and all the inspiration she brought to the table. I loved writing fic for a good cause and I think the story this became is pretty fitting.
> 
> Cas's tiny house in this fic is inspired by many but the ones I looked at most [were over here at Tumbleweed homes.](https://www.tumbleweedhouses.com/) I'm incapable nowadays of not naming a fic after a song: this one is after the song of the same name by John Mellencamp. And the setting is in the vicinity of Rapid City, South Dakota.

“There is a house on my property.”

Dean scrunches his face and looks sidelong at the phone receiver braced between his ear and shoulder.

“Well, I should hope so, Crowley, seeing as it’s mighty uncomfortable to live in open fields.”

“I don’t need your color commentary, moron, I need you to get down here in your paddy wagon and get the offending structure off!”

Now, Dean had dealt with Fergus Crowley before. Obnoxiously smart, British and rich as fuck, he currently owns half the county and is buying up more and more each day for some business venture which he assures the chamber of commerce will turn the tides for their little Podunk corner of South Dakota. Not that Pennington County is small time, it’s home to the second biggest city in the state and more prairie dogs than you can swing a jackalope at. And Crowley, all snarls and stiff upper crust accent or whatever, sticks out like a sore thumb. The guy has never treated Dean or other members of the county sheriff’s department with anything less than contempt, so Dean can't be blamed for being less than accommodating.

“Listen, Fergus, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Dean says, glad that the asshat can’t see him rolling his eyes. Sheriff Mills can though, and she gives him a glare from where she’s leaning against her office door. “Can you be more specific? Maybe start with which of your properties you’re talking about?”

“The acreage off old Kennedy road. The _thing_ is down by the stream.” Crowley says it like Dean should know this already.

“Okay.” Dean sighs and steels himself. “Can you describe…the house.”

“It’s a bloody cottage!” Crowley yells back and Dean startles and drops the receiver. Jody raises an eyebrow as Dean scrambles after the thing, a muted torrent of insults issuing from where it dangles on its cord. “…get it off today! Moron!” Crowley finishes as the line goes dead.

“And fuck you too, lemony bastard,” Dean mutters to himself as he hangs up the phone, looking down at his pathetic notes.

“Deputy Winchester, you wouldn’t be speaking ill of one of the pillars of our fine community, would you?” Jody asks, appearing beside Dean.

“Uh…No, Ma’am. I was just…”

“Because the correct term is limey bastard,” Jody says with a twinkle in her eye. “And I personally think that he’s more of a blowhard.”

“Does this mean I don’t have to drag my ass down to remove a house from his property?”

“Unfortunately, no. Go check it out.”

"Victor is still in court on the...thing..." Dean tries. Not that he always needs a partner, but it's safer. But Jody knows there's not a lot to fear on this call and her face says as much. 

"Go find the mystery house." Jody gives Dean a sympathetic smile and a pat on the shoulder.

“It probably blew here from Kansas in a tornado and fell on his sister,” Dean grumbles as he heads to the door.

 

It takes Dean nearly twenty minutes to make it to the property in question and then to follow some muddy tire tracks down towards the stream that Crowley had mentioned. As he comes around the final bend Dean slams on the breaks and blinks. By the stream, plain as day, is a fucking _house on wheels._  It’s bigger than a garden shed, but it’s definitely one of the smallest houses Dean has ever seen. And the weirdest. Weird enough to call in.

“Hey, Charlie, this is Dean.”

“Hey, Deputy. Find any wild geese yet?” Charlie’s cheerful voice rattles back over the radio.

“I found something. Looks like Crowley wasn’t nuts and there is…some sort of unauthorized structure here on his property. I’m going to check it out.”

“You need back up? I can send Dorothy.”

“No, it doesn’t look like a threat but I wanted to let you know,” Dean says, peering at the mysterious little house through the window of the truck. It’s tall and narrow, about the size of a Winnebago or RV but it’s a _house_ with a door a tiny porch and windows (with flower boxes). The walls are unpainted wood but the roof (where it’s visible under the solar panels), trim and doors are shade of pale pink.

“Be careful then,” Charlie replies. “Call if you need help.”

“Roger. Over and out.” Dean climbs out of the Sheriff’s truck and adjusts the badge pinned on his brown uniform, as well as his gun belt. “Sheriff’s Department,” Dean calls as he knocks. He hears a shuffle. He can’t imagine that whoever is inside will take too long to answer; not like there’s a long way to go from anywhere. Sure enough, the door swings open in two seconds.

The first thing Dean processes about the guy that greets him with a friendly, if confused, expression, is that he’s gorgeous: messy hair, a dusting of stubble on a strong jaw, and blue eyes that should be illegal. The second thing is that he is completely fucking naked.

“Sir, I – holy crap!” Dean tries so hard to avert his eyes before glancing at the guy’s junk and completely fails. Well. He's not Jewish then. Dean blushes and chooses a point at the top of the pink door to focus on and starts again. “Dude, where are your pants?”

“In the drawer. Can I help you, Officer?”

Dean swallows. Of course the hot naked guy has a voice like sex made audible.

"Deputy."

"Is there a difference?" 

Dean glance down for a second, catching glimpses of tan skin and blue eyes as he tries to keep his cool. "I'm with the county. That means...never mind. We received a, uh, complaint at about an illegal structure.”

“This isn’t a structure, technically. It’s not permanent or attached to the ground,” Nudist McNoPants deadpans and Dean makes the mistake of looking at him again. Fuck, That's a nice dick and a good stomach and...Okay if he can focus on the eyes maybe they can talk. Nope. Looked at the dick again. Back on the eyes. Fuck they’re nice eyes too. This is a disaster.

“Okay, an illegal co-CAR. Illegally parked.”

“My home isn’t a car. It’s technically a recreational vehicle.”

Dean steels himself and manages to keep eye contact with the guy as he sighs. “Whatever it is, you have to move it.”

“No.” The completely blasé defiance in the guy’s face and tone is enough to finally get Dean’s mind (mostly) off of his naked body.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m here to protest the proposed fracking that Fergus Crowley intends to begin on these lands, though I’m just getting set up.”

“The proposed _what now_?”

The guy gives a put-upon sigh and Dean cannot believe that someone with no clothes on can make Dean feel like _he’s_ the idiot.

“Fracking. It’s a method of drilling for natural gas that’s wreaking havoc on our natural world. It causes earthquakes and –”

“You got me at 'drilling, and not the fun kind,' okay.” The words come out before Dean can think better and of course he looks down again and of course the guy catches him and of course he looks at Dean with a raised eyebrow. “Why the hell are you naked?”

“Is this pertinent to your investigation?”

“No, I’m just –”

“You don’t think it’s acceptable for a man to be naked in his own home?”

“Your home is a garden shed on wheels.”

“Even if that weren’t a gross over-simplification, I don’t see how that’s relevant to how I spend my time while in it or my presence on this land.”

Dean sighs and looks up to the clear blue sky, mostly trying to find some calm and avoid the urge to throttle this guy. And okay also to keep from checking him out more. He was really in shape.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to –”

“Castiel.”

“What?”

Dean finds himself looking at the guy again, thankfully (or not) caught by his intense blue eyes. “That’s my name.”

“You got a last name?’

“No.” Jesus Christ this guy had cracked some magic code for being completely obstinate and annoyed at the same time.

“That was a rhetorical...Everyone has a last name!”

“I used to, but legally I don’t anymore.” The guy seems more than a little pleased with himself and gives Dean a smug, lopsided smile that makes him even more attractive. Which is just unacceptable. Dean is an officer of the law trying to do his job and he can’t waste time getting distracted by the cute naked guy.

“Bullshit.”

“Do you want to see my ID?”

Dean’s not sure if this is a trap. It’s probably a trap. “Well, I’ve seen everything else,” he smirks and _Castiel_ rolls his eyes.

“Please come in. Before you warn me: Yes. I’m aware that inviting an officer into my home removes certain constitutional protections of my privacy. And no, you don’t need to make the joke you’re thinking of.”

“I was not…” Dean doesn’t bother finishing as he steps into the main part of Castiel’s little home. It’s…surprisingly roomy. There’s more than enough space for the yoga mat set up in the center of the main area. There’s a comfortable looking chair and shelving and in one corner is a tiny kitchenette and a door that must lead to a bathroom of some sort. Above those is a loft that Dean guesses Cas sleeps in and another smaller one across from that for storage or something. There’s lots of light and everything is clean and cozy and…well, kind of beautiful down to the daffodils in a tiny bud vase mounted to the kitchen window frame. The place even smells wonderful.

“Wow.”

“Better than a garden shack?” Cas asks, prompting Dean to turn around just in time to see his ass as takes a wallet off a little shelf and pulls out a driver’s license. It takes him a second to realize what Castiel is talking about due to the perfection of that butt.

“Oh, uh. Yeah. It’s…nice. Shut up.” Dean snatches the ID from the smug nudist in front of him. “California. Of course. Now the naked yoga makes sense.” But it definitely says just ‘Castiel.’ “Well, that’s going to make writing your citation easier.”

“What kind of citation?” Well at least that got a reaction out of the guy, if only annoyed disbelief.

“I told you: illegal parking.”

“There’s no sign,” Castiel huffs.

“Okay, public indecency.” Dean’s pretty pleased with that one but it barely ruffles Castiel.

“I haven’t left my own home.”

“Vehicle.”

“And public nudity as protest is protected free speech.”

“Trespassing then.” The intensity of the argument is getting Dean’s blood pumping, that and the way Castiel’s eyes are practically glowing in defiance. Dean’s annoyed, but also maybe…excited.

“Cite me then, I’m not going anywhere.”

Dean takes a deep breath through his nose, trying to find some chill and failing. The guy’s eyes are boring into Dean, but he can’t look anywhere else because getting a boner right now will seriously undermine his credibility.

“Okay. I will.” The threat doesn’t have near the impact Dean had hoped.

“But I won’t be paying any fine, as an act of civil disobedience.”

Dean throws up his arms and gets out his citation book anyway. “This is going to require you to leave within 24 hours,” Dean mutters as he writes and Castiel sighs in a way that brings too much attention to his chest. He’s got a little mole above his left nipple…

“I thought I made it clear, I’m not leaving until Mr. Crowley cancels his planned rape of this area’s natural resources.” Dean just shakes his head and keeps writing. “Of course, I wouldn’t expect a tool of the oppressors to understand or care about that.”

“Hey! I care,” Dean says, bristling and nearly dropping his pen. “And I am not a 'tool of the oppressors.' What the fuck does that even mean? I’m just doing my damn job.” Castiel just raises an eyebrow as if to say his point has been made and Dean scowls. God, that eyebrow does things to Dean that make it really hard to keep to his train of thought, but he manages. “I do what I do because I love this place and I want to protect it and the people that live here. At least I’m not some tree-hugging, naked-yoga-doing California cliché who probably doesn’t know the second thing about the land he thinks he’s protecting.”

“Better than an over-compensating stooge of the military-industrial complex that thinks he can strap on a badge and no one will notice him checking out the other wannabe cowboys.”

“I’ll have you know that the other wannabe cowboys don’t mind at all when I check them out and I don’t have anything to overcompensate for, _buddy_.” Dean stepped aggressively into Castiel’s space at some point in the last minute and he can’t remember when. He glares down at the other guy and tries not to think about how the just outed himself. Though, continuously looking at the guy like her wants to devour him (cause he does) probably gave that away.

“Is that so?” Castiel asks, stepping even closer so that Dean can feel a whisper of heat from his body and very pointedly looks down at the front of Dean’s dark brown pants. His interest and intent is clear and Dean’s sure Castiel can feel his heat too because his cheeks are on fire. “I may have to be convinced.”

“Well some of us don’t go wandering around with our junk hanging out."

Castiel looks straight at his crotch again.“Pity.”

“And at least I’m not…” Dean searches the gorgeous face a few inches from his, trying to think of a fitting insult for this weirdo who’s taken Dean’s day from boring to an exercise in every kind of frustration (including sexual). “Short.”

God fucking damnit.

“You were doing better when you were trying to convince me of your…proportionality.” Castiel smirks.

This is bad. This is very very bad and wrong and also really fucking hot. Dean licks his lips and Castiel's eyes follow the movement with interest that's unmistakable.

Dean is so screwed.

“You really wanna know how proportional I am?”

Without ceremony Castiel places his hand right on Dean’s clothed dick and gropes with _intention_. “Hmmm. Adequate.”

Well, now Dean’s really mad. “Adequate? I will show you-” Dean starts scrabbling at his gun belt and Castiel clucks.

“No, leave it on, it’s arousing.”

“Oh is it?” Dean looks down just in time to catch Castiel’s dick stirring to life. “Oh.”

Dean’s had situations escalate in his time on the force, in all sorts of way. Once he was called in for a domestic and ended up making balloons at a kid’s birthday party. Another time he was off duty and ended up arresting two guys fighting over a ham. Shit happens on the force. But he really couldn’t tell you how he got from telling a werido to move his fucking house of some jerk’s land to unbuttoning his fly so a naked weirdo can pull out his rapidly hardening dick.

“That’s better.” Castiel comments, and Dean tries to scowl instead of hitching his breath. The guy’s hands are soft and huge and really nice.

“Screwing around with me isn’t going to get you out of the citation, you know,” Dean mutters.

“Does this count as assaulting an officer?” Castiel asks back, still cool and smug. Dean gets his hand on the guy’s dick just to see if he can get him to show some emotion besides annoyance and superiority (that’s totally an emotion). Surprisingly it works, and Castiel’s eyes go wide and his breath speeds up.

Dean has to really concentrate on jacking Castiel off to the best of his ability, but it’s really fucking hard because Castiel is doing things with his long fingers that have got Dean weak in the fucking knees already. They’re close now too, chests and arms knocking together as they fist each other’s cocks and for one second Dean has the insane urge to kiss this fucker. Not just kiss him but also grab him and push him against a wall and fuck him in the world’s tiniest kitchen three feet away. Instead Dean just keeps up the attention on Castiel’s dick and grits his teeth to keep from coming too soon, even though he can feel the orgasm creeping closer because Castiel will never let him hear the end of it if he doesn’t last a little longer. Like he’s reading his mind Castiel starts twisting his hand just right and _goddamnit_.

“Fuck, I’m gonna…” Dean’s not even sure why he’s warning the guy. Common courtesy maybe.

“Go ahead and come,” Castiel says, his voice low and right in Dean’s ear. “I’m right with you.”

That does it. Dean comes with a noise that’s only somewhat embarrassing, and considering the situation, really not bad at all. He’s more focused on the low, sexy as fuck moan that Castiel gives just as he grabs Dean’s shoulder for support and comes all over Dean’s fist.

They’re panting hard as the step back from one another. Castiel’s chest is flushed and his eyes are shining. It’s hot as sin and if Dean hadn’t just gotten off it would have him hard again.

“Sorry for the mess,” Castiel says. Dean looks down to the splash of come on his dark pants and it’s only a little disturbing that he has no idea whose it is. There’s a few drops on the woven rugs as well.

“Yeah, your whole house is dirty now.”

Castiel scowls. At least the friendly exchange of handjobs means Dean’s not so shy about checking out Castiel’s ass again as he takes the four steps to the kitchen and wets some towels. Cloth dish towels to be precise.

“Of course, you don’t have paper towels.”

“You don’t have to use it if you’re going to be snide,” Castiel says but hands it to Dean anyway.

Dean does his best to clean up but there’s still a very obvious stain on the front of his pants. “Damnit.”

“See where wearing pants gets you.”

“Shut up.”

“Maybe cover it up with another spill.”

“Oh yeah, that won’t be even more embarrassing,” Dean snaps, but he’s already wondering what might work best. Water? Coffee?

“There’s a good place for milkshakes down on Broy road,” Castiel muses.

“Rufus's joint? Yeah, I love that place.” Castiel’s face lights up with a genuine smile and Dean’s insides do a funny sort of somersault. “Wouldn’t want to waste something that good though.”

“How green of you.” The jibe doesn’t have the same bite as before and the warm look in Castiel’s face makes Dean avoid eye contact before he starts blushing again. The discarded citation on the floor catches his attention. Right. He was here for _work_. Jeez, he is seven kinds of moron today.

“So, uh. Don’t uh…ignore that,” Dean stammers as he retrieves the paper and offers it to Castiel. “The fines will go up.”

“I’m aware. Not my first rodeo, Deputy…” Castiel’s eyes fall to Dean’s badge. Shit. He gave a guy a handjob while working _without even introducing himself._ “Winchester. How fitting.”

“Dean.” He thrusts out his hand to shake before remembering what it was covered in two minutes before. Too late to retract. Castiel takes it anyway, looking suspicious but interested.

“Nice to meet you, Dean.”

“You too, Cas.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains an art commission from the amazing [Purgatory-jar](https://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com/)!

Dean has a lot of explaining and avoiding to do for the rest of the afternoon. He has to explain to Jody that yes, there is a portable house on Crowley’s property. He has to lie to Charlie why he spilled a white mocha all over his pants when he doesn’t even like mochas and narrowly avoids going into a rant how they shouldn’t call it a white mocha if it’s not actually white. He retreats behind his desk and manages not to embarrass himself too much while he continually explains to the other deputies that he can’t move a house and no he’s not getting up from behind the desk and yes the guy answered the door naked.

Dean’s probably too stuck on that, but at least he doesn’t blow his cover and let slip that he ended up a few steps over the line of professional decorum and let the weird hippie jack him off. He’s pretty sure that wasn’t illegal, but not as sure if that’s the sort of thing that can get him fired. He’s really tempted to ask his lawyer when he calls later that night, once Dean’s home and in blessedly clean pants. He settles for a different tack.

“So, what do you know about civil disobedience?” Dean asks through a mouthful of cold chow mein, settling back at his home desk with his phone on speaker.

“Uh, it’s sort of a big topic,” Sam replies over the line.

“But it’s like a protest thing, right?”

“Yeah. It can also be a defense in court, but it’s not technically recognized by the law.” Sam sounds pretty confused. Can’t blame him, Dean doesn’t ask about lawyer crap very often.

“What about before court? Like, if someone’s protesting a thing?” Dean’s already got a few windows open on his computer about free speech, fracking and the tiny house craze. Who knew that was a thing?

“Are you dealing with protesters? Dean, you know I can’t give you legal advice.”

“What’s the use of having a lawyer as a brother if I can’t pick his brains? There’s got to be a family exception. Especially if you’re not even in the same state.” Dean can feel Sam glaring through the phone. “What about public nudity as free speech. That’s fake right?”

“What the hell happened today?”

“Nothing!” Dean lies and he knows Sam knows it.

“Dean.”

“I’m just wondering if there’s a free speech freebie thing that can get me out of arresting someone.” He really hopes it doesn’t come to that, honestly. Would that be a conflict of interest?

“That’s the sort of thing you ask your DA. I do civil rights law!”

“Yeah, but Sarah is your ex and it’s still weird. And protesting is a civil right, this is totally your thing.”

“Sarah and I are just on a break while I’m…you know what? Fine. Tell me about the crazy.”

“Awesome.” Dean grins around his noodles. “I got a call from that asshole British guy about a house on his land and I go over and there’s a guy parked there in a tiny house. Which is apparently a _movement_ of its own. But he’s protesting some drilling or something Crowley wants to do. Or he’s planning on it.”

“Oh. Google squatter’s rights then, maybe adverse possession too, though that’s a stretch.”

“You’re a good brother.”

“I’m hanging up now before you get me disbarred.” Dean rolls his eyes but doesn’t push.

“Talk later.”

“Sure. And Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

“I won’t. Scout’s honor.” Dean hangs up before Sam can yell that Dean was never a boy scout. He turns back to his computer and opens a sixth search tab and types in “Castiel” and tells himself this is for work.

 

The next day is normal. Dean patrols with Victor and they don’t encounter more than a few traffic stops and one shoplifter at what passes for a New Age shop in Rapid City. It’s mostly inspirational books and rocks, but there’s also a display on incense in the back. While Victor takes the shopkeeper’s statement Dean sniffs around, literally. He knows Castiel’s tiny house didn’t smell like patchouli (thank God). Sandalwood? No. Ylang Ylang? That just sounds made up. Jasmine. It was jasmine. He likes the scent actually, aside from the fact the sense memory nearly gives him a boner. He doesn’t buy any because he’s working and _not a loser_. A jasmine candle just happens to make it into his basket at the grocery store, and he just happens to jack off with it burning later that night.

He wakes up hard again after dreaming of blue eyes but he takes care of that in the shower like a normal person. By the time he makes it in to work Thursday morning, bristling at the stink of paper and stale coffe, he’s close to admitting to himself that he’s maybe in trouble. 

“You doing anything this weekend?” Charlie asks him, cheerful as usual, when Dean stops by dispatch to hand her the ceremonial Thursday salted caramel mocha that keeps him off the neglected animal calls.

“Oh yeah. What’s it you kids call it? Netflix and chill?’

Charlie perks up. “Oooo, with who?”

“Uh…myself?” Dean’s sensing he’s not as fluent in youthspeak as he thought.

“That’s lame, what happened to Aaron?”

“He moved back to Pennsylvania like a month ago,” Dean huffs. “Wasn’t gonna work anyway.”

“Because you had to keep not arresting him for all the pot?” Dean opens his mouth to protest then snaps it closed.

“There just…wasn’t a...”

“A spark?” Charlie looks like she just rolled a natural twenty and Dean feels his cheeks heating.

“I’m not talking about this.”

“What about that girl you were talking about? Uh…Christy or something? The artist.”

“Yeah, painter. She was hot, but way out of my league.” Dean shakes his head and thinks he smells a whiff of jasmine. “I’m good on my own this weekend.”

“Lame.”

“And when are you gonna ask Dorothy out?”

Charlie glares at Dean and takes a pointed sip of coffee. Dean smirks and heads back to his desk, where Victor is just answering the phone.

“Pennington County Sheriff. Deputy Hendrickson speaking. What can I-” The sound of some very angry yelling over the line cuts Victor off. Dean raises his eye brows in a silent question as he takes his seat, which turns out to be a mistake. “Yes, Mr. Crowley. Deputy Winchester is right here.”

“Fuck you,” Dean mouths as Victor thrusts the phone at him. “Good morning, Mr. Crow-“

“How incompetent are you?!” Crowley bellows over the line into Dean’s ear. “I alerted you to the trespasser on my property two days ago and yet there is _still_ a doll house parked on my land!”

“Now, sir, I did advise the trespasser to leave and issued a citation, but-”

“But nothing! Get down there with a tow truck if you have to and remove the bloody thing!”

“I will…go speak with him again and update you. But he’s there as-” The line goes dead. Victor stares over the desks with an eyebrow raised.

“You want me to go with this time? Sounds like this nutjob isn’t getting the message.”

“Nah, man, it’s fine. He’s a protester. Trying to keep Crowley from fracking up the land or something.”

“Crowley’s a Battlestar fan?”

“No, it’s ripping up the ground for natural gas, it’s super bad for the environment.”

“Did the hippie give you a pamphlet or something?” Victor laughs and Dean starts to squirm.

“I looked it up, okay? And he’s not wrong about this being bad for the land.” That gets him a curious look that has him squirming any more. “Why don’t you check on Crowley’s permits so we at least have a heads up for when this will get real bad. I’m sure more protesters are coming. This Castiel is a big name in environmental rights.”

“Is he now?”

“I’ll go talk to him again,” Dean grumbles and doesn’t try to move too fast to get out the door.

 

Nothing has changed when Dean reaches Castiel's weird little homestead, but somehow it looks even more idyllic and welcoming than when Dean first saw it earlier in the week. Maybe it’s thanks to the bright spring sun that’s finally chosen to show its face. The air is warm and fresh and nestled by the little stream, Cas’s little home on wheels doesn’t just look inviting, it looks perfect.

Castiel is outside, working on a bike in the sun, clothed (sadly) in torn up jeans and a blue linen shirt. He looks kind of perfect too.

“So, you do own pants,” Dean calls as he approaches. He parked further off this time just so he could enjoy the walk. “And a car if I’m guessing right and that junker I parked next to up the road is yours.”

“Connie has been with me for many years, I’d appreciate if you didn’t insult her.” Castiel replies without looking up from his work. “And yes. I own pants. But I wear them under protest.”

“Why does that not surprise me.”

“Bike gears and exposed genitalia don’t mix.”

“Yeah that would be a tragedy.” Dean muses as he gets close enough that his shadow falls over the bike and Castiel. Cas looks up with an expression between a scowl and a smile. There’s some heat in those brilliant blue eyes that makes Dean’s skin tingle.

“You’re in my light.”

“And you’re still trespassing.”

That gets a sigh and an eyeroll from the man on the ground.  “I told you that –”

“But at this point you qualify as a squatter, so it would take a multi-week court process to get you removed. Which I would have told Crowley today if he hadn’t hung up on me. Before telling the guy to go fuck himself.”

Castiel blinks up at Dean. “You felt the need to come all the way out here to tell me you’re…not making me move.”

“Buddy, I don’t think I could get you to move if I had an army.”

Castiel gives Dean a cautious, lopsided smile. “Well, that depends on how you want me to move.”

Dean smiles back. That was flirting. That was definitely flirting. He can do this. He can be cool.

“By the way, you’re standing in prairie dog shit.”

“Goddamnit!” Dean jumps back, wiping his shoe on dry grass as Cas gives a low cackle. “Not funny, man.”

“It’s extremely funny.”

“I can still arrest you,” Dean snaps as Cas rises, still chuckling.

“But you won’t.” Dean tries to glare at him but he’s not sure how intimidating he is now. “Would you like to come in for some tea, Deputy?”

Dean can see that it’s a peace offering. Or something else. He’s not sure now, but he’ll go with it. “Sure. And I told you to call me Dean. Since we're friendly.”

Castiel rises, sweeping grass off his pants and giving Dean a smirk. "And you called me Cas without permission."

Dean's mouth goes dry and his cheeks go red at Castiel's commanding (and incredibly sexy) tone and he blinks at the other man where he stands in front of his pink door. "I..."

"I like it though. Please continue." Dean nods immediately. “Do you mind leaving your shoes outside this time?” Cas adds, deadpan, as they go inside and instantly the spell is broken and Dean has to hold back from throttling him.

“Fine. I wouldn’t want to mess up your whole house.”

“You already made that joke,” Cas says as he cross from the door to the little kitchen in a few steps while Dean unlaces his boots.

“Well, it’s still funny. You made sun tea?”

Cas turns from where he’s removing a glass pitcher loaded with several tea bags from the window sill. “Yes. You’ve had it before?”

“My mom used to make it,” Dean replies wistfully as Cas pours them two glasses then replaces the pitcher on the sill. The sun hits it like a jewel and for a second Dean’s back at the old house in Lawrence waiting for the crust to get cut off his sandwiches.

“It’s mint, I hope that’s alright.”

Dean takes a sip and it’s sweet and clean and cool. “Perfect.”

Cas takes a long swig and doesn’t take his eyes off Dean, like he’s trying to figure him out. It makes Dean feel naked, which is a bit ironic. “So, you drove all this way to tell me something I already know.”

“It’s not like I could call.” Dean takes another sip, holding Castiel’s gaze. He looks amused now.

“Is that your way of asking for my number?”

Dean sputters and narrowly avoids choking on tea. “What? No. I – I just assumed you didn’t have a phone.”

“Of course I have a phone.” Cas nods towards a little desk that wasn’t there before – looks like it folds up into the wall when not in use. There’s a phone and a laptop charging on it. "Solar power."

"So, you're not totally off the grid." 

"Of course not, I have a home, it just moves with me where I'm needed." 

It's Dean's turn to raise an eyebrow. "You've got a place to sleep, that's not quite a home."

To Dean's surprise Cas gives a resigned shrug. "You're not wrong. But at least I have Netflix.” Cas grins at that, like it’s his proudest achievement. Dean raises his glass in a cheers and downs another sip.

“And a website,” Dean says, indicating the laptop and getting an interested look. “I uh…”

“Did you _google_ me?”

“It was for work,” Dean huffs. “Need to know what kind of criminal mastermind I could be dealing with.”

“Find anything interesting?” Cas asks, looking smug as he sips his tea.

“You’ve got quite a track record taking on big companies. Looks like your organization almost single-handedly brought down Roman Enterprises.”

“They did that to themselves, we just let the public know what they were up to.” There’s something confident and dangerous about the way that Cas says that that both turns Dean on and makes him glad the guy is using his powers for good.

“Sounds like Crowley’s been harder to pin down.”

Cas sighs and looks to the ceiling. “He’s smart and very good at working the system, convincing people to look the other way. And we’re having a hard time on the legal side finding out what’s going on there. And he has a habit of paying off anyone that gets too close to busting him or gets in his way.”

“He ever try to pay you off?”

“Try being the operative word.” The expression on Cas’s face and his tone of voice is kinda badass. Dean laughs quietly. No way someone like Cas could be bought.

“So, he’s your white whale.”

“You could say that. Let’s not talk about work though.” Cas shakes off whatever bad vibes thinking about Crowley brought on and looks over Dean from head to toe. “Let’s talk about you. _Moby Dick_ a favorite of yours?”

Dean throws his head back and laughs.  “Wow. That was bad.”

“I’m not particularly good at innuendo.” Cas shrugs.

“Seems to be working fine so far.”

“Really? Because you turned down my number and haven’t offered more sex yet.”

Dean’s eyes go wide. Never let it be said that the guy’s not direct. “Okay. For one, I didn’t turn down your number,” Dean says, trying to keep his breathing even and his speeding heartbeat in check.

“I made it very clear it was available.”

“No, you didn’t. And B, we did not have sex.”

That gets both eyebrows raised. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Hand jobs aren’t sex. Something has to go in something else for it to be sex.”

“Your dick was in my hand, doesn’t that count?”

Dean swallows, mouth dry and skin prickling with awareness of how Cas has drifted closer to him. “No. Has to be more than a hand.”

Cas gives Dean another look, head to toe, cool and assessing. “What about a mouth?”

“That’s…uh…” Dean used to know how to make words, but all his attention now is on Cas’s (extremely tempting) mouth and the ability is gone.

“It is called oral sex.” Dean just nods a Cas steps within an inch of him and gently takes his tea from his hand and sets it on the desk. “Which I’m offering. Right now. If that’s not clear.”

“I’m supposed to be working,” Dean protests weakly as Cas’s hands settle on his gun belt. “And I really didn’t just come here for –”

Cas tastes like mint tea and sunshine when he kisses Dean. It’s unexpectedly soft and Dean melts into it, enjoying the drag of Cas’s two-day scruff against his chin. “I appreciate your dedication, Deputy.”

“Just trying to leave the world a bit better than I found it,” Dean replies, dazed.

“Do you mind if I remove this?” Cas asks, running a thumb over the buckle of Dean’s belt and then down to graze the growing bulge in his pants. “It’s very hot, but I don’t like the idea of having a gun so close to my face while I’m sucking you off.”

“That one’s a taser, actually.” Cas looks either impressed or appalled, Dean can’t tell. “And yeah. Sure.”

“The handcuffs could be useful…” Cas muses are he unfastens the gun belt. Dean doesn’t mention that he’s not supposed to remove it on duty, because, as Cas would remind him, he’s doing several things right now he’s not supposed to do on duty.

“They’re not very comfortable. I’ve got softer stuff ones at-” Dean stops himself too late and Cas grins.

“I like you.”

“Uh…” Dean isn’t sure why _that_ gets him more hot and bothered than anything else Cas has said. “Thanks again.”

“You’re putting a lot of trust in someone you barely know,” Cas says thoughtfully as he slowly undoes Dean’s regular belt and the top button of his slacks. God, his voice is sexy, and just the promise in his tone has Dean’s dick straining at the zipper before Cas carefully pulls it down. “Surrendering weapons. Consorting with a dirty hippie with no respect for the law.”

“As long as you respect me in the morning,” Dean says, then groans when Cas’s hand slips into his briefs.

“Why don’t you get comfortable?” Cas leans in close and kisses along Dean’s jaw line, distracting him as he pushes him back until his legs hit the small chair by the window. Cas’s mouth keeps up its work on Dean’s neck as he pushes down his pants and underwear fully before Dean practically falls into the chair.

“You certainly are hospitable.”

Cas chuckles against Dean’s collarbone, hands trailing over his arms before dropping to the ground in front of Dean and adjusting pants and limbs until he’s in the perfect position to lean down and lap at the head of Dean’s bobbing cock. His lips feel even better on Dean’s dick than on his mouth when he wraps them around the head. Dean’s not surprised that Cas is really good at giving head. Seems like something that goes well with the whole naked-yoga-gives-no-shits aesthetic. Oh, he’s probably bendy too. A few ill-defined images of the positions that Cas could get into flash through Dean’s mind as Cas takes more of him in. He makes an ungodly noise of pleasure, fully appreciating that Cas doesn’t have neighbors.

Dean’s a pretty active guy, socially. Or he was before he let work take over his life too much. But still, it hasn’t been _that_ long since he’s gotten a blow job that it should feel this good, but oh it does. He grips the armrests of the chair as Cas massages his thighs then adds a hand to the mix. It’s hard not to thrust up into that wet heat but he minds his manners, just breathing hard and whimpering once in a while as Cas takes him deeper and deeper. Dean’s eyes fly open (when did he shut them?) when he feels Cas’s hand on his, guiding Dean to weave his fingers in Cas’s hair. It’s silky from whatever fancy organic shampoo he probably uses. Cas hums in encouragement as Dean finally gives in and moves his hips, fucking up into Cas’s (frankly amazing) mouth as he gently holds Cas in place. Heat and tension are already pooling at the base of his spine and he has to bite his lip to keep from yelling out when Cas swallows around his cock. “Fuck, that’s…fuck…”

When Dean finally fucks this guy, which he very much intends to do, he’s gonna prove that he has better staying power. But at the moment he’s given up and ready to come any second. “Cas, fuck, I’m about to…” Cas responds by fondling gently at Dean’s balls and humming around his dick. Dean comes, hips stuttering off the chair and Cas swallows it all down. Dean’s head falls back as he rides the afterglow, panting.

“You need less red meat in your diet,” Cas says, drawing Dean back to reality.

“Are you _critiquing_ my –” Dean loses the words at the sight of Cas standing in front of him, cock freed and glistening as he jacks himself lazily. “You’re bossy you know that?”

“That’s not bossy,” Cas smirks. “Bossy is telling you to get over here and get your mouth on my dick right now.”

Dean has to bite back and automatic ‘yes, sir,’ as he tumbles out of the chair to his knees in front of Cas. He has Cas’s cock in his mouth in seconds, pride bubbling his chest at the appreciative noises Cas makes as Dean’s tongue plays at his slit and the underside of his cockhead. Cas isn't shy about getting his hands on Dean and guiding him right where he wants him. Dean’s not quite as good at Cas at the deep-throating thing (it’s been a while okay and Cas is pretty well-endowed). He makes up for it with enthusiasm, sucking and licking and just enjoying the taste of Cas in his mouth. He massages one hand on Cas’s hips and amazing thighs while adding the other to Cas’s dick and balls. Dean knows he’s giving away too early what a slut for cock and getting ordered around he is, but he doesn’t care. He suckles harder as Cas pulls him closer to his body, his nose pressed into coarse hair, and loves every second of it. Dean can hear Cas’s breath coming fast before the other man pushes Dean off a split second before letting his come paint Dean’s cheeks and mouth.

“Stay still,” Cas warns breathlessly as he joins Dean kneeling. Dean has no idea what’s in store, just resigns himself to it. Cas’s tongue darts out and Dean catches his breath as he gingerly licks his own come from Dean’s face then kisses him, tonguing Dean’s jizz into his own mouth. It’s maybe the filithiest thing Dean’s let someone do to him in a long time and holy shit it is _awesome_.

“See, less red meat, more whole grains. Better taste.”

“You are one kinky bastard.”

“Now, about that phone number.”


	3. Chapter 3

Having Cas’s phone number, or rather, Cas having Dean’s number, turns out to be an adventure. Maybe the guy is lonely fighting the good fight out there on the prairie with no one to talk to, but he sends his first text to Dean within a few hours of their parting. Dean had hung around too long chatting about stuff (the green features of Cas’s house, Dean’s brother the lawyer – normal human stuff) so he’d thought Cas would be bored with him. But no. Dean gets a picture of a field of wild flowers and a bee emoji just after noon and it goes from there. Cas keeps up a periodic commentary on his day and Dean replies back, when he can. He’s not at articulate as Cas, and he’s not as free to go snapping pictures but he tries. It’s easier when he gets home to his dreary little apartment. Cas razzes him for the shot of his pathetic dinner and Dean reminds him that frozen chicken pot pie at least isn’t red meat.

The next picture is much more interesting than flowers or dinner. Dean stares at the shot of Cas’s dick for too long, panicking and turned on. Long enough that it must scare Cas and another message pops up,

**> >is that okay?**

Dean types back quickly.

**< <its fucking awesome.**

**> >Good.**

**> >Go get on your bed and show me how hard you are when you’re there.**

The texting keeps up for the next day and Victor only asks Dean why he’s smiling at his phone once. Luckily, it’s because Cas sent Dean a picture of an interesting rock. Extra luckily Dean is alone later when he gets another dick pic that afternoon. Crafting his reply takes a bit of time, but Cas seems pretty pleased with the pic Dean sends of his hand covered in come.

That night it’s a phone call and Cas proves exactly how bossy he can be, telling Dean exactly how to touch himself and them making him wait to come until he’s sort of babbling and begging. It’s amazing and so is staying on the line just talking with Cas afterwards. They even talk about the interesting rock and Dean falls asleep content and fluttery.

He hasn’t told Sam about it. Or Charlie or anyone, because that would take it out of this thing that’s just them (and is maybe sort of just about the sex except not at all) and into something real and he ain’t ready for that. But he does get a jolt every time his phone buzzes on Saturday while he’s working crowds at a fair. There’s a shot of a lovely beetle and the whorls in a petrified tree. Dean says it looks like his old boss’s face and Cas sends back a shot of a wild ass saying his old boss was more like this.

Working a weekend is always rough, even more so when he has to break up a fight over watermelons of all things Dean’s exhausted when he gets off on Saturday night. Which is extra annoying because he really wanted to see what Cas is up to, all alone on Crowley’s property. He could drive out again, but all he wants to do is shower and sleep…but he also wants to talk to the weirdo who’s slowly taking over all his thoughts.

He fiddles with his phone for a while until it buzzes in his hand.

It’s a picture of squash.

**> >A friend of mine thinks this looks like a butt plug. I don’t think he’s wrong.**

Dean smiles and starts typing his reply.

 

Dean feels weird driving out to Cas’s place - or parking spot – in his own car and in regular clothes. He shouldn’t be nervous. He knows that. It’s not like Cas is under ongoing investigation. If anyone is under suspicion, it’s Crowley. Victor had given Dean a report on the guy’s permits on Friday but it didn’t make a lick of sense since they were only for soil sampling and exploratory stuff, not drilling and certainly not extraction. Dean hadn’t found the time to look into it yet, not that he was even sure what he was looking for. Talking to Cas might actually help in that respect. Not that this is about work. It’s about…well, Dean’s not sure but he has a few ideas.

Cas is standing barefoot in the grass by his Continental when Dean rolls up and Dean can’t help but grin. Cas is relatively clean shaven and looks pretty well-rested from someone Dean knows for a fact was up late smoking a joint and sending increasingly erotic and nonsensical text messages to a member of law enforcement.

“I could hear this thing coming a mile away,” Cas says without ceremony as Dean gets out.

“Before you say something snarky, you should know that Baby here has been with me my whole life. She’s family.” Cas doesn’t quite look convinced. “And you drive a classic too. Sorta.”

“Connie’s been modified to run on used fryer oil,” Cas replies. “And I’m not being snarky. Your Baby is very beautiful and I’m sure with a few modifications she could be perfect.”

“Uh huh.”

Dean moves closer to where Cas is leaning against his hideous gold car, itching to pull him close kiss the smug look off his face.

“Reminds me of someone I know,” Cas says and Dean hooks a finger into the belt loop of his sinfully low-slung jeans and tugs him towards him, their chests bumping as Cas licks his lips. Dean leans in, nuzzling their noses together and savoring the moment before the kiss…

“Whoa! That car is _sweet_!”

Dean jumps back, almost reaching for a weapon that isn’t there. There’s a short guy with glasses and a scraggly goatee gaping at them and another guy with darker hair and a fed-up expression coming up after him.

“It’s an environmental monstrosity, Ed,” the second guy huffs.

“Doesn’t mean it’s not cool, _Harry_ ,” Glasses snaps.

Ed rolls his eyes. “Do you have any principles? The thing’s got two friggin’ tail pipes for double the emissions.”

“Do you even know how engines work?” Dean asks. “Also: who the fuck are you?”

“We’re earth warriors, dickwad,” Ed sneers. Cas sighs heavily, grabbing Dean’s wrist to hold him back from strangling the guy.

“Yeah, we’re here to defend the land,” Harry adds.

“They’re warm bodies that are soon going to be distributed to occupy other possible drill sites,” Cas says. At least he sounds as annoyed with these guys as Dean. “You didn’t think I’d be doing this all by myself, did you?”

“No, of course not,” Dean sighs.

“Come on, they’re not the only ones. I’ll introduce you.” Cas says it with a gummy smile that Dean has no hope of resisting.

“Fine.” Cas grabs his hand and leads Dean away from the cars and past Ed and Harry.

“Touch my car and I will shoot you, by the way,” Dean snarls, only half-jokingly as they pass the two guys. They look suitably terrified which makes up for Cas’s exasperated noise.

There’s practically a village set up around Cas’s tiny house when they reach it. Closest to the road is a rickety-looking Winnebago with “Wild Warriors!” painted crudely on the side. He’s guessing that’s Ed and Harry. Next to that is a van with an honest-to-god mural of a Viking queen on a polar bear on it. Then there’s Cas’s place and then a truck with a small sleeper trailer hooked up to it.

Cas looks between Dean and the van, clearly considering something. “Judging by your outfit, you’re not on duty right now, correct?”

“Uh, no.” Dean doesn’t know if he should blush or be suspicious. “This is a purely social call.”

“Good. Good…” Cas mutters to himself. “Maybe don’t breathe too deeply near the van anyway. And I’m very happy for the visit. If not for the timing.”

Dean chuckles and goes with blushing. “Wanted to see if you were up for grabbing some of those milkshakes over at Rufus’s. If you’re not free I get it.”

“No, I’m very-”

“Who’s Ken doll?” A husky voice interrupts and Dean turns to see a woman with wet hair, naked but for the towel wrapped around her, emerging from Cas’s houslette. Dean’s stomach seizes up tight at the sight of her moist, pale skin and the familiar way she looks at Cas.

“This is Dean. Winchester. Dean, this is Meg,” Cas says without a hint of discomfort.

“Winchester?” Harry scoffs behind them, reminding Dean that the dumbass duo is still there. “Like the _gun_?”

“No, like the town in Virginia,” Dean snaps, rounding on the two guys. “Yes, like the gun, douchebag.”

“Or like the Pennington County Deputy that’s been hanging around?” Meg purrs and Dean spins back to face her. She looks like the cat that caught the canary. “Oh yeah. Heard you were real pretty.”

“What the hell, Cas?” Ed yelps and Cas goes pale. “Your fuckbuddy is a _cop_?”

“Ash! Andy! The fuzz is here!” Harry yells before Cas can stop him.

“Guys, calm down he’s not here to-”

“You ain’t taking me alive, Po Po!” comes a yell as the van doors burst open and a skunky cloud of smoke billows out, momentarily obscuring a guy with a mullet, wielding a giant bong like a weapon. He’s wearing a denim vest and nothing else.

“Jesus, does anyone around here wear pants?” Dean groans.

“What the fuck is happening?” A voice whines from inside the van.

“Andy it’s fine. Ash _calm down_!” Cas bellows in a voice that could stop an army in its tracks and even Dean stands to attention. “Dean is…a friend.” Okay. Not the best title, but Dean will go with it.

“I ain’t here to arrest anyone for weed,” Dean says. Mullet guy (Ash?) still looks spooked even as he lowers his bong. “Or anything else.”

“So, like, hacking into private servers, we’re cool?” Ash asks and Cas groans.

“Well, I’d prefer you don’t _tell me_ which laws you’re breaking,” Dean says.

“Okay. Cool,” Ash grins, oblivious. “Because we are really close to cracking-” A hand slams over Ash’s mouth from behind. The other van guy has emerged.

“Let’s go find your pants, okay?” Andy says, pulling Ash back towards the van.

“Ash and Andy are our…tech support,” Cas says tightly.

“And I’m his right hand girl,” Meg adds, coming to stand close to Cas, almost possessive. “Never knew he took ‘fuck the police’ so literally though.”

“Well, it depends on your definition of fucking,” Cas says with a playful glance at Dean. It should make him excited but it just makes him sorta sick.

“Meg Masters?” Dean asks, thinking back to the research he did on Cas and a few of the files he pulled. Cas didn’t have any active warrants, though there were some convictions for stuff that didn’t surprise Dean – trespass, criminal mischief, obstruction of commerce. But Meg had caught Dean’s attention because her rap sheet indicated she favored more aggressive methods.

“Meg has been the primary organizer against Crowley for years,” Cas answers before Meg can, as she narrows her eyes at Dean.

“And yet he’s still out there, richer and dirtier than ever,” Dean says.

“Hey, I’m gonna get that slimy ass if it’s the last thing I do,” Meg practically growls.

“Meg is a hero, though I’m sure it wouldn’t seem that way to someone who’s not fully informed,” Cas says. He looks uncomfortable with the tension between Meg and Dean.

“Yeah. She’s doing more for the earth than some underwear model with a badge and a gas-guzzler,” Harry pipes in.

Dean clenches his fists. He can’t punch a civilian off duty. It would be bad. But he really wants to. “Wow, Cas, your groupies are kinda dicks.”

Cas grimaces, clearly upset and opens his mouth to say something but Ed pipes in first. “Hey, we’re not groupies. We don’t sleep with him.”

Meg grins and Dean feels his blood turn to cement before she even speaks. “Well, some of us do.” Meg nudges Cas with her bare shoulder.

“You know what, y’all are clearly…busy saving the bumble bees, I’m just gonna go,” Dean says, backing away and trying his best to shrink entirely into his jacket. Once again he finds himself looking anywhere but at the naked person, but for a completely different reason this time.

“Dean, wait…” Cas calls as Dean turns away. Dean doesn’t stop. Embarrassment and shame and anger churn in his stomach and all he wants to do is get safely back into his fossil fuel burning monstrosity and get home. He’s pretty sure he can hear snickering over the sound of his footsteps in the grass.

A hand catches Dean by the shoulder and he whips around to see Cas’s pleading eyes. “Dean, ignore them. They’re idiots.”

“I thought you said your righthand girl there was a hero,” Dean snaps. “I’m sure she can keep you company with more integrity than a tool of the man like me.”

“Dean…”

“It’s Deputy Winchester from now on.”

Castiel falls back as if Dean slapped him. It takes all of Dean’s strength to turn around again and keep walking away.

Turns out he was right to be nervous. The part of his brain, or maybe his heart or whatever, that had been thinking this was more than sex and distraction for Cas was just as big an idiot as always. How the fuck did he think he was going to make anything work with someone who thinks – _knows_ that Dean’s just another grunt? Yeah, he thought there was a spark but it was probably just another delusion. Just like the idea Dean could do one fucking thing right.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean wakes up with a worse hangover than he deserves on Monday morning, but at least he wakes up in his own place, albeit on the couch. Why the fuck he's awake, he can't say. Wait. A phone is ringing obnoxiously in his apartment. That’s what woke him up. And that’s weird because he distinctly remembers turning his phone _off_ after the fifth text alert from Cas. He hadn’t read any of them.

The ringing keeps up and Dean stumbles around until he finds where his work phone is buzzing and clanging on the kitchen counter.

“Jesus, Victor, it’s still my weekend, what do you want?” Dean grumbles into the phone.

“It is 9am, your sorry ass should be out of bed anyway,” Victor replies. “Were you out all night carrying on with whoever it is got you so twitterpated last week?”

“Why the fuck are you calling me?” Dean snarls back. He doesn’t want to think about it.

“So I kept looking into those permits for the Crowley thing after we got those permits back. Something doesn’t add up with the public records. And then last night we got some weird email about him too.”

Dean straightens up. “Weird email?”

“Yeah, looks like it may have some inside documents, but they’re encrypted and we can’t figure out the password to fully unlock them. And they bounced to me because your email was still on the weekend setting.”

“Did it say where they’re from?” Dean’s foggy mind is racing.

“Um…EarthAngel76. That mean anything to you?”

“I’m coming in.”

 

Dean drives too fast but it's not like he won't know whoever pulls him over. It would be a bad example, but he's got places to be.

“If it wasn’t supposed to be your day off, I’d remark on your…” Jody looks over Dean then gives a sniff. He’d really hoped she wouldn’t catch him sneaking into the station. “Everything.”

“Victor needed my help on a thing,” Dean says sheepishly. “And I had nothing better to do.” He leaves off the part where a hippie maybe broke his heart a little bit  

“Oh, the email thing?” Jody looks more interested than suspicious. “Well, if you think it’ll lead somewhere.”

“I don’t know, but I’d sure love to take Crowley down a peg.”

“Ooo, we talking pegging?” Charlie chirps, appearing out of nowhere beside Dean.

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that. Proceed,” Jody sighs and waves them away.

“You come in to solve the email riddle?” Charlies asks, unfazed. “I’ve been trying to help Victor but it needs a password.”

“And you think I know it?”

“It was sent to you,” Charlie says. They enter the bullpen and Victor waves him over to their desks. He’s already got Dean’s computer booted up with a garbled mess of images and files on the screen and a little window prompting “enter key.”

“All we know is that it’s five characters,” Victor sighs. “So start guessing.”

Dean sits and stares at the screen, trying to figure what kind of password Cas would set for him and drawing a complete blank.

“Hey, by the way; way to blow me off,” Charlie says, lightly smacking Dean’s shoulder.

“What?” Dean blinks at her.

“I texted you like five times last night to see if you wanted to join us at the Hot Femmes of Horror film fest.”

“Oh, I uh…turned off my personal cell. I…sorry.” He probably should check it. Dean fishes the black-screened phone out of his pocket and braces himself as he powers up.

Holy crap he has thirty unread texts and two missed calls. Who calls people anymore?

“Fuck.”

“Whoa, who did you piss off?” Charlie crows and Dean elbows her away.

“Can a man check his phone in peace?”

“Fine. A man may read his texts. A girl will go get coffee.”

Victor is staring at both of them over the desk. “You two are such nerds.”

Dean grimaces then braces himself. He hits the text icon.

Five are from Charlie as promised. Two are from Sam. The rest are from Cas.

**11:06 >>Dean. I’m sorry. **

**11:11 >>Ed and Harry are idiots.**

**11:11 >>I don’t think you’re a tool.**

**11:12 >>I like your tool.**

**11:25 >>Meg informs me that you’re probably not mad about them.**

**11:27 >>I didn’t fuck her.**

**11:27 >>Last night. **

**11:35 >>I have in the past but it was just as friends.**

**2:30 >>Please talk to me.**

Dean bites his lips, not sure which emotion between embarrassment and regret and jealousy and longing to go with.

**3:37 >>I don’t have romantic feelings for Meg. I never have.**

**4:01 >>She says I should clarify that I have romantic feelings for you.**

**4:07 >>She also says I should stop mentioning her.**

Dean smiles and shakes his head.

**4:16** >> **I’m sorry.**

The next message is a picture of the rolling hills beyond the stream where Cas’s house is parked.

**5:03 >>Is the grass less green in the summer?**

**5:04 >>It makes me think of your eyes.**

**5:14 >>I’m wearing pants right now. I thought you’d be proud.**

Another picture, this one of the sunset.

**6:20 >>I’m so sorry, Dean.**

**7:17 >> :(**

**8:17 >>I’m sending you something. It’s up to you what you do with it. I believe in you.**

**9:06 >>The password was Ash’s idea. I added it under protest. ;)**

**10:22 >>I’m consuming an illegal substance, law enforcement should contact me.**

**1:12 >>I miss you.**

Dean’s thumbs hover over the keypad. He has no idea what to say. He doesn’t have all the information yet and he still can’t decide how he feels. He sets the phone down and turns back to password prompt waiting on the screen.

Five characters, added under protest.

Dean smiles and shakes his head and carefully types. “PANTS”

The documents unscramble like magic.

“Holy crap, you did it!” Charlie yelps, rushing back across the bull pen and joining an awestruck Victor looking over Dean’s shoulders. “And holier crap are these Crowley’s internal memos on his fracking project?”

“Who do you think sent this?” Victor asks.

“Anonymous source.”

“Uh huh.” Victor doesn’t buy it for a second, but it doesn’t matter any way. Dean won’t be sure until he digs in but the file names and documents he can see hint at something very bad.

“Crowley only got permits for exploratory stuff, right?” Dean asks.

“That’s what the paper work I have on file says.”

“Then why is he planning on drilling within a few weeks?”

“Holiest of crap…” Charlie whispers.

“Victor, call Sarah at the DA’s office. I think we’re gonna need some warrants,” Dean orders. “And Charlie, go get Jody. I got an idea for some pegging.”

Charlie and Victor disperse leaving Dean with his computer, a pile of questions and bad ideas. He looks down at his phone and licks his lips. Maybe he can add one more bad idea to the stack.

He opens his contacts, picks up his desk phone and dials.

 

Dean had told Cas to be at the station at 2:00 pm so of course he shows at 1:55. He’s paler than Dean’s ever seen him, and very unshaven and rumpled. It should make Dean feel better that Cas was suffering too, but it just makes him feel like more of a jackass. Dean walks over to where Cas is lurking at the edge of the bullpen, looking uncomfortable and not noticing Dean yet. He probably blends into the sea of beige and brown. Dean adjusts his uniform and tries to school his features.

“You’re here early,” Dean says and Cas practically jumps at the sound.

“You sounded very serious on the phone, Dea—Deputy.” Dean winces at the title but doesn’t correct him. He hasn’t earned that yet. “You look terrible,” Cas adds.

“I could say the same to you,” Dean scowls. “Seeing you in shoes is weird. And a coat.”

“If I'm going to be taken into custody, I wanted some protection.” Cas doesn’t come off snarky, just resigned.

Dean deflates a little more. “You thought I was going to arrest you, and you still came?”

“I wanted to talk to you.” Cas shrugs.

“Well, I’m not arresting you so...don’t worry.” Dean gulps. This went better in his head.

“So why am I here?”

“To mediate with Fergus Crowley.” 

Cas’s eyes go wide. “I am _not_ leaving or-”

“Offering him the opportunity to threaten you face to face is the only way I was getting him here in person,” Dean says, warning in his voice.

Cas squints at Dean with the utmost suspicion. “I have nothing to say to him.”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

Dean doesn’t lead Cas to the interview room. That’s too intimidating, instead he shows him to a drab conference room and retreats to fetch him some of the station’s crappy coffee. When he returns Jody is waiting at the door glowering at the scruffy British jackass by her side.

“So, you’ve invited me here so I can watch you arrest the degenerate that’s been defiling my land,” Crowley says, sneering at Dean. Impressive how someone that short can manage to look down his nose at people.

“Something like that. Come on in.” Dean nods to Jody. She gives him her best ‘do not fuck this up’ look and leaves.

Cas stands as they enter the room, hackles rising the instant he sees Crowley.

“Ah. Castiel. I knew this had to be you,” Crowley says, smirking. “Where’s your merry band of morons? Is the whore here too?”

“Hey! We aren’t here to call names, okay?” Dean snaps, holding himself back from a few choice titles he’d like to give Crowley himself. “We’re here to negotiate an end to this little standoff.”

“Fine,” Crowley huffs, staring Cas down. “My one and only offer is this: he’s arrested for obstruction and I’m allowed to do my business.”

“What you do isn’t business, Crowley, it’s wholesale destruction just to line your own pockets,” Cas snarls right back and Dean remembers why he likes the guy so much.

“How about this,” Dean interjects, and Crowley turns to him as if he’s surprised Dean is still there. “You leave the state.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s the best deal for you,” Dean goes on, giving a quick glance to where Cas stands back, looking perplexed and curious. “Because you see, otherwise it might come out that you’re not only drilling without permits, but you have a whole system worked out where you’re diverting natural gas to foreign buyers, and illegally dumping the waste.”

“You can't prove any of that. You haven’t got the evidence,” Crowley replies, completely unruffled. “And you won’t get that without a warrant, which you don’t have.”

Dean smirks, pointedly glancing towards a file folder lying on the table. “You sure about that? Those warrants there are just waiting to be executed. And I could forget about them if you just get out of town.”

“I’ve got too much money tied up in your worthless backwater state to leave it now,” Crowley says, seething.

Dean doesn’t blink. “I’ll throw in not calling in the feds.”

“Listen, Officer…”

“Deputy,” Cas corrects with pride in his voice.

“Deputy.” Crowley usually smooth voice has curdled with anger. “There must be a way to make this all go away.”

“Go away?” Dean replies, doing his best to sound interested and look receptive.

“The drilling I’m doing is a good as mining gold. Just give me a number, and I’ll make sure that you’re the happiest little law man in the West, no problems.” Crowley is every inch the salesman as he leans in, eyes wide and inviting.

“You’re trying to buy me off?” Dean asks slowly. “In my own office. In front of a witness.”

“You wouldn’t be the first,” Crowley says with a shrug. “I just think of it as another investment.”

“Even if you did that, _I’m_ not going away, Crowley,” Cas interjects and Crowley rolls his eyes.

“As if you could ever actually stop me, you fluffy little git,” Crowley growls.

“Actually, he already has,” Dean says with a smile, earning looks of confusion from the two other men. “Fergus Crowley, you are under arrest for attempted bribery of an officer.”

“What?” Crowley’s face has gone pale under his scruffy beard. “You can’t-”

“Oh, I can. See the information that Castiel made sure we got was enough for warrants but not an arrest. But that little offer you just made was. And we got the whole thing recorded, including the part where you admitted to the illegal drilling and other bribery.” Dean is all out grinning now, not just because he caught the bad guy, but also because Cas is beaming at him with pride.

“You small-minded clod!” Crowley bellows as Dean gets out his handcuffs and reaches for his wrist. Crowley jumps back. “Don’t touch me, you overgrown prairie dog!”

“Did that look like resisting arrest to you?” Dean asks Cas.

“Very much so.”

“Awesome.” Dean seizes Crowley, spins him and slams him against the wall. Crowley gives a furious “oof!” and Cas snickers. “As I was saying: Fergus Crowley you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent, which I would recommend you do from now on, because we are going to use every word you say against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney and if you can’t afford one when your accounts are frozen, one will be provided for you. Hey, Jody! We’re good!”

The conference room door swings open to reveal Jody, Dorothy and Victor waiting to catch Crowley as Dean shoves him out the door. “Good work, Deputy. I’ll tell the DA we’ll start on those warrants, since now we don’t have to worry about Mr. Crowley here fleeing or destroying evidence.”

“You will pay for this! All of you!” Crowley bellows, practically frothing at the mouth as Dorothy and Victor haul him away.

“Nice working with you,” Dean calls. “Moron,” he adds under his breath as Cas comes to stand beside him. Dean might call the look in Cas’s eyes adoration if he were a prideful man.

“So, you did get the messages,” Cas says quietly.

“Sorry for not telling you the plan. Had to make sure everything played and I don’t know how good an actor you are.” Dean swallows, trying to look away from Cas and failing.

“It’s alright. It worked out well.” Cas smiles, all gummy and adorable. “Seeing you arrest that troll was worth all the confusion.”

“That was pretty awesome, huh?”

“And extremely hot,” Cas says, hovering close in Dean’s personal space.

Dean’s cheeks heat and he imagines his smile is just as goofy as Cas’s. “Really?”

“My hero.” Now _that_ makes butterflies explode in Dean’s stomach and something electric tingle over his skin. And he hasn’t even kissed Cas yet. But his mouth is there. Waiting.

“Ahem.” Dean jumps back, eyes flying to where Jody is still standing, watching them with an expression that’s beyond smug. “Dean, did you want in on the field trip to the leprechaun’s office? Or should I let you go back to your day off?”

“Uh…” Dean looks back and forth between his boss and the guy he’d really like to kiss senseless right now.  “Shit. I….”

“I do have some things to get organized back at the camp, if you want to go have some fun playing cowboy,” Cas says, reading Dean’s mind.

“Great,” Dean grins.

“Alright. Train leaves in ten. I’ll leave you boys to…say goodbye.” Jody shakes her head as she turns and leaves, muttering something about “grown men worse than my teenage girl.”

They lean into each other when Jody is out of sight, not kissing, just close. Cas smells like jasmine and weed and honey and sunshine, and his hand is soft and warm when Dean takes it.

“So, can I, uh, come by later?” Dean asks, flashing back to asking Rhonda Hurley to prom.

“I would appreciate that, Deputy.” There’s a twinkle in Cas’s eye when he says it.

“How about we stick to Dean?”

“That’s acceptable.”


	5. Chapter 5

It takes a good few hours to serve the warrant on Crowley’s office. His employees are surprisingly cooperative with throwing their boss under the bus. They find enough files to keep the DA busy for a month, and Sarah is both furious with and amazed by Dean when he gets her on the phone. Dean doesn’t get out the door until past six and rushes home for the shower he missed earlier in the day before heading over to Cas’s parking spot.

He’s nervous in a different way when he’s finally behind the wheel of his Baby, heading down Kennedy Road. He got two picture messages from Cas while he was working. One of a rear end of a prairie dog and the other of an ear of corn and Dean has no idea if they’re meant to go together. He hopes not.

The sun is just setting when Dean makes it to Cas’s place, and the site of the little cottage by the stream with a peach colored sky behind it and little lamps sparkling on the eaves is like something out of a god damn fairy tale. It’s made even more perfect by the fact that Cas’s house is the only thing there.

Cas has the door open before Dean can even knock.  “Hello, Dean.”

It sorta makes Dean’s heart jump in his chest to hear his name back in Cas’s mouth. It’s the kind of thing a guy could get used to.

“You’re still wearing clothes,” Dean says, more surprised than bummed. The shoes are gone at least.

“And you’re not in uniform. That’s disappointing, I had a very good question ready about if you had a gun in your pocket.”

Dean grins and yanks Cas into a kiss. He doesn’t worry about being presumptuous or scaring him off. He’s pretty sure they’re past any of that and the way Cas kisses him back, deep and hungry, confirms it.

“I was gonna ask if you were still up for milkshakes,” Dean murmurs when they pull apart. “But I think if we drove anywhere I’d end up just fucking you in the back of my car.”

“And why bother with that when you can fuck me in my house,” Cas replies, voice rumbling against Dean’s jaw.

“Well, my car is bigger than you house.”

“So is its carbon footprint.”

Dean laughs softly, twining his fingers into Cas’s hair. “I’m okay staying in.”

“Good.”

“Especially now that the circus has left town.”

Cas peers over Dean’s shoulder through the still open door then back at Dean, his skin looking golden in the light of the setting sun. “I made it clear to them they would be useful elsewhere. Meg volunteered to leave first, just so you know.”

“Did she?”

“And she apologizes for her…behavior. She didn’t realize how much I –” Cas swallows. It’s strange because Cas has never in the short time Dean’s known him been at a loss for words.

“Like me?” Dean finishes for him, relishing his chance to be the smug one.

“Something like that.” Cas grumbles. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, it’s going somewhere.” Dean presses closer to Cas to drive home the point.

“Get your bowlegs in here and out of those pants.” Cas tugs Dean inside, kissing him through his laughter. There’s probably some talking to be done about Crowley and what Cas might do now that his mission is complete, but that can wait. For now Cas seems very intent on keeping up his home’s no-pants policy and undoing Dean’s belt.

Dean shrugs out of his jacket and doesn’t make a joke about how it takes up a quarter of the floor when it hits the ground. Cas helps him with his shirts and somewhere along the way Cas loses his shirt too. Then it’s back to work on getting pants off, but Dean’s catch on his shoes and he nearly trips onto Cas.

“See, those things are dangerous,” Cas smirks, pushing his pants easily off as Dean has to do some undignified hopping to get himself free. Cas of course has no underwear on, so his hardening cock springs free.

“Hey, I’m gonna agree that you should never wear pants, don’t push it.” Seriously though. Cas should always be naked. Dean still feels overdressed in his boxers as he tugs Cas to him again, kissing at his neck and jaw and shoulders as Cas does the same. Dean gets his hand on Cas’s ass – _finally_ – and pulls them flush, grinding their cocks together through the thin fabric of his boxers before Cas pushes him back.

“What…” Dean stammers.

“You think I’m going to let you get off just humping me?” Cas says, holding Dean back with one hand on his chest.

“I…uh…no?” Dean blinks, gulping and not even pretending that Cas’s bossy side showing itself doesn’t have him even more turned on.

“Exactly. You promised you’d fuck me, and that’s what you’re going to do,” Cas says and Dean just nods. “So get in my bed and get to it.”

“Yeah, sure. Okay.” Dean looks around, his eyes falling on the innocuous little stair-ladder thing behind the cushy chair that leads up towards Cas’s loft.

“Is there a problem?” The tone of Cas’s voice gives Dean shivers and he shakes his head. It’s not a hard climb, it just reminds him of the bunkbeds he and Sam shared for a brief time when Dean was ten and that’s not a sexy thought at all. Cas slaps him playfully on the ass and brings Dean back to the moment.

“God, I hope you don’t climb this thing drunk,” Dean mutters. He finally gets up to the top to find a space that’s…actually kind of roomy. The sloped ceiling is pretty low in some parts but the mattress (which is sort of sunken into the floor) is a king and there’s windows and a few shelves at the back above the pillows. Ooo. Memory foam.

Dean crawls up and turns in time to see Cas reach the top and make his way onto the mattress without his swollen cock even touching the edge. Dean’s about to make a cute remark about the “bedroom” but the look in Cas’s eyes stops him. He crawls right on top of Dean, and kisses him into the pillows. “I like the look of you in my bed.”

“I like me in it,” Dean replies, confirming that his higher brain function has flown out Cas’s picturesque window.

Cas gives a feral grin and divests Dean of his boxers in one smooth motion. He stares down at Dean’s naked body, licking his lips. “You should consider giving up pants too. You’re glorious.”

Dean gulps. “No one’s ever used that word about me.”

Cas dips down and kisses Dean thoroughly in response, his cock nudging Dean’s. Dean wants to thrust up into the friction, but he’s not sure if he’s allowed. He lets himself be kissed and touched with firm fingertips and palms until Cas shifts so that his thigh is between Dean’s and gives a slow roll of his hips.

“Jesus…” Dean groans at the wave of pleasure. “I thought I was gonna…”

“You are, but getting you worked up is fun,” Cas drawls against his ear, moving his hips again so that Dean whimpers. “You’re going to get that beautiful cock of yours in me, and make me come. And then, and only then, do you get to come.”

“Holy fuck.”

“I’m named after an angel, so yes, it will be.” Dean throws his head back, laughing as Cas grins and rolls off him. “Supplies are in the little box on the shelf.”

Dean springs up, over eager, and slams his head on the low ceiling with a muffled thump. “Son of a bitch!” Dean glares down at Cas cackling beneath him and shakes his head. “Not funny.”

“It’s extremely funny.”

Dean knows one way to wipe the smirk off Cas’s face. As Cas said, there’s a box off the shelf. It looks sort of like a tiny lacquered tree stump and Dean’s sure there’s a story behind it he’ll get later. He finds lube and condoms inside...among other things. “Nice.”

“We’ll get to the toys later,” Cas says.

Dean nods and takes out what they need and replaces the treasure box. He kisses Cas as they adjust positions, shifting blankets and moving limbs until his mouth is trailing down Cas’s flushed chest and one hand is gently fondling his balls. Cas makes a pleased sound when Dean’s mouth finds his cock. Having Cas is his mouth is the best kind of distraction and Dean gets caught up in the velvet feel of him against his lips and the drips of precome on his tongue. But he has orders to obey, he reminds himself, and slips one finger back to circle Cas’s hole.

“You don’t need to be delicate with me,” Cas murmurs, sounding far too composed for Dean’s liking.

“Alright.” Dean draws back enough to get some lube on his fingers and returns to work, earning a gasp of pleasure when he breaches Cas with one finger. That’s better. He’s careful, but not to gentle or slow. After all, Cas said he could take it and Dean’s more than a little impatient to get more than a finger (or two now) inside Cas. He opens easily for Dean, biting his lips against moans and very soon Dean has three fingers stretching him open and ready. “You good?”

“Stop dithering and fuck me.”  If possible, the words make Dean’s cock harder. The bonk he gets on the head when he sits up to search for the dropped condom takes off some of that edge at least.

“I’m going to have a fucking concussion by the end of the night,” Dean mutters rolling on the condom and sparing a glare for Cas, who is doing his level best to bite back his laughter. “Shut up.”

“No. I intend to be very vocal.”

Dean is careful as he lowers himself down and the head of his cock nudges Cas’s rim. “I can’t wait to hear.”

Cas doesn’t disappoint, giving a long moan in that gravel and thunder voice as Dean sinks slowly into him.  Cas easily wraps his legs around Dean’s waist as he takes him all the way in. It feels good. Really fucking good. Hot and welcoming and right. Like Dean fits here. Like this is where he’s belonged all along.

Dean kisses Cas deep and desperate as he starts moving, sliding in and out with shallow thrusts. He trusts Cas to tell him what he needs and likes. Sure enough Cas grabs his ass and shifts their angle then gives an glorious cry when Dean drives hard into him and hits the sweet spot. “God, fuck! Dean!” He takes the encouragement and speeds up, keeping his focus on Cas’s pleasure. He tries to straighten up for more leverage, but Cas reaches a hand behind his head and stops him just shy of hitting the ceiling again.

“No more injuries,” Cas pants. He shifts his legs up more, his thighs nearly on Dean’s chest and Dean gets his arms under them so that Cas is practically bent in half. God, he _is_ bendy. The angle definitely works and Dean fucks fast into Cas, grabbing one thigh for extra leverage and earning a new litany of curses and encouragement. Dean can feel the tension rising in Cas’s body, and also revving up deep in his own.

“Fuck, Cas, you…fuck….”

“I gave you an order, Dean,” Cas pants and Dean bites back a whine. “What was it?”

“You-you come first.” Dean repeats, trying to keep his focus on Cas and not how amazing he feels around Dean’s cock.

“So make me come for you.”

Dean doesn’t so much groan as growl, attacking Cas’s mouth with a kiss and wedging a hand between them to grab Cas’s leaking cock and start jerking him fast and hard as his hips match the rhythm.

“Yes! Dean! Fuck that’s perfect! Fuck!” Cas’s praise dissolves into one long, guttural scream as he clenches around Dean and comes, his whole body nearly lifting off the bed as he rides his pleasure. It takes every ounce of self-control Dean has not to follow him over, but he doesn’t know if he’s allowed. And anyway, watching Cas come on his cock is a beautiful sight. He slows to shallow, slow strokes, coaxing the last bits of ecstasy out of Cas, loving the sight of his eye fluttering open and looking up at Dean as if through a haze.

“Can I…” Dean asks, voice shaking.

“Fuck yes,” Cas sighs. “Fuck me till you come.”

Dean doesn’t need to be told twice. He starts moving again at a near frantic pace, the tension and pleasure building more and more as Cas mutters a constant stream of “yes, so good, you’re amazing, yes, fuck” and his hands tangle in Dean’s hair and tug. That little extra sensation is what pushes Dean over the edge, his hips stuttering as he spills into the condom, gasping Cas’s name.

Dean’s very proud that he manages to avoid the roof when he rolls off, hitting the pillow with a grin on his face. Cas looks just as pleased when Dean looks over.

“We should do that again,” Dean says. “Maybe some place roomier.”

“Maybe. Or I can show you some of the very creative ways I’ve found to use the space.”

“Okay, but cleanup is gonna be…” Cas is ready for the question, pulling a very tiny trash can out of a corner and handing it to Dean and then grabbing a pack of wet wipes from the shelf. “Well damn.”

Condom discarded and come cleaned up, they settle next to each other…yes, cuddling. It’s fine. Dean’s a mature, evolved man. He can admit to cuddling and that in this case he really fucking likes it.

“Okay you win, this is damn cozy,” Dean admits, pressing a kiss to Cas’s hairline.

“And there’s even a view.” Cas reaches up and pushes back a section of the roof to reveal a hidden skylight, and beyond it, the glittering expanse of the South Dakota sky.

“Wow.”

“Did you still want to get those milkshakes? It’s still early.” There’s no urgency in Cas’s voice. Just curiosity.

“Maybe later. I like just being here right now.”

“Me too.”

 

 

They’re lucky that Rufus’s joint stays open until midnight. They get milkshakes (mocha for Cas, peanut butter for Dean) and burgers and greasy fries to go and eat them cross legged on Cas’s floor, shoes lined up neatly by the door.

“I just so glad you’re not a fucking vegan,” Dean says, popping the final bite of burger into his mouth.

“That would be one cliché too far. And I couldn’t give up burgers if I tried.” Cas smirks before slurping noisily at the dregs of his milkshake.

“How does that work with your ideals?” Dean asks, honestly curious.

“I believe in the cyclical nature of our souls and the energy of the universe,” Cas says and Dean stares at him in confusion. “I choose to believe the bad guys are reborn as veal.”

Dean throws his head back laughing then looks back at Cas. There’s that sly spark in his eyes that makes Dean’s heart leap. “Thought you were named after an angel.”

“I can believe in angels _and_ reincarnation,” Cas shrugs.

“Why’d you chose that angel to name yourself after?” To Dean’s surprise, Cas avoids his eyes, looking embarrassed. “Please tell me he’s not like, the angel of fisting or something.”

Cas rolls his eyes. "I _thought_ he was the angel of solitude.”

“Thought?”

“I…” Cas scowls and it reminds Dean of an angry, wet cat. “I missed a letter. The angel of solitude is Cassiel. Castiel is the angel of…Thursday. Name changes are expensive and troublesome so I just…went with it.” Cas finally looks up at Dean. “Go ahead. I know you want to say something you think is clever.”

“No. I want to know why you wanted to be the angel of solitude.”

Cas stares across the small space at Dean, eyes shining in the dim light, ad takes an unsteady breath. “What I do…what I wanted to do. It’s something I always knew I would do alone. I’d have compatriots, of course, but…I always knew this was just my battle. I was born Jimmy Novak and he was just another suburban no one. As a Cassiel I’d be rootless and without a family or other attachments and I wanted to find strength in that.”

“Good thing you fucked it up then.”

Cas squints at Dean, questioning. And hopeful. “Why?”

“Because that’s not you. Or…” Dean almost keeps the nervous tremor out of his voice. “It doesn’t have to be.”

“What are you…offering?”

“Listen, I know you gotta…move along, now that Crowley’s dealt with but…” Dean gulps. “If you need some place to come back to or call home or whatever…no reason it can’t be here.”

“I don’t need some place to come back to,” Cas says carefully. Dean’s stomach seizes in disappointment and panic, his blood rushing all the wrong places until he feels a hand on his. “But someone to come back to would be very nice.”

“Really?” Dean feels like the grin is going to split his face.

“Really.” Cas’s smile is just as bright. Dean doesn’t waste time tackling him into a kiss, trapping him between Dean’s body and the floor. It lasts a long time and they part with Cas’s hand in Dean’s hair.

“Good. Cool. This is much better than my other plan,” Dean says.

“Other plan?”

“Was gonna call in a favor with Sarah, get a material witness warrant on you. Then you’d really be stuck.”

Dean loves the way Cas’s eyes crinkle when he laughs and the warm, solid feel of his body beneath Dean’s. He thinks he could love a lot about Cas, now that they have time.

“Well. There’s more work to be done around here. Crowley wasn’t the only bad guy,” Cas says.

“And I guess you don’t have to move until you have to.” Dean pushes some of Cas’s hair out of his face. They should probably get up, but he has no intention of doing that. “It’s good spot. Good air. Good stream. Great stars.”

“True, but eventually I will. Do you have any suggestions where I might park?”

“Well, I live in an apartment building so, my place isn’t gonna cut it if that’s what you mean.” Dean smiles, thinking about how he might remedy that when his lease is up. “But I have a family friend that’s got a few acres. I’ll just have to call ahead and tell him you’re coming or he may end up shooting at you.”

“He sounds lovely,” Cas frowns.

“Eh, he grows on you. More than meets the eye.”

Cas’s eyes fill with warmth again as he pulls Dean down into a kiss. “Sounds like someone I know.”

Dean can’t wait for the furious call from Bobby asking why there’s a tiny house on his land, and why Dean’s boyfriend is wandering outside of it completely naked.


End file.
